First March batch - Wedding in Italy

Few people get to experience their culture and heritage in a way that I get to. My father was born and raised in a town in southern Italy, named Valleluce. It’s about an hour and a half south of Rome. I love that town. For many, seeing their family involves car trips and perhaps a plane ride within the continental US. For me, it involves cars and planes across the Atlantic, a train or car ride an hour and half past that. Getting to experience the things I do there, I feel so unbelievably privileged. This memory centers on that.

It all really begins on my trip to Italy the summer between 8th and 9th grade. I stepped onto that plane a 13 year old and would leave a much different 14 year old. We went to Italy for different reasons but this time we would get to celebrate my cousin Franco’s wedding. I was excited. I love weddings. I think I was ready to experience something I was accustomed to already but I would soon learn that was not the case. When we arrived we had a few days before the celebrations but I was not ready for them.

My dad explained to us, things in Italy especially such traditions as family, were a bit different that in America. I assumed a little. But what happened the first night of celebration completed changed that. In Italy, at least still in the smaller towns, they have a tradition on the night before the wedding that blows our idea of a rehearsal out of the water. On the eve of the wedding, the family of the groom travels to the brides house (in this case just up the mountain) and when they arrive the groom takes to serenading his future wife.

My cousin Franco got out a ladder, climbed up with a rose in his hand, and I forget whether he was playing or someone else was but there was definitely an accordion playing. He began to serenade Annarita. After his song, she arrived at the ledge of the balcony (every good Italian house must have a killer balcony a la Romeo and Juliet) and he presented her with a rose. She then allows him to come in and they kiss. After a few moments together then reemerge and join the party that has commenced. Wow, I thought quite the start.

My cousin Pamela laughed at me because she could tell I was feeling out of my element. The night progressed and we ate and drank and I was astounded. Eventually my father gathered us and we went back to our grandparent’s house, we had a lot of stuff to get ready for. I fell asleep that night wondering what else was to come. I was awoken early the next morning getting told I had to get ready quickly for we had to go to my aunts. Why I asked, well traditionally in Italy the family of the groom walks through...

the town together to the church. I was unbelievably honored that I was getting to be a part of this. However, wishing I had chosen better shoes. We all gathered at my aunt’s house and proceeded, uphill, to the church in the middle of the town. People were lined up watching this. I was astounded. When we arrived we made our way into the tiny church. So many people were there that they spilled out into the streets, typically the church did not have this many people in it at once my dad told me. There was no procession there.

They only had witnesses. After the wedding we proceeded back out into the square for celebration and then got in our cars and made a procession to the first reception. Horns honking everyone was happy to be there. The first reception had so many courses I stopped counting. Five different meats, pastas, salads, I was quite gluttonous. And my father leaned over to tell me this was just the first reception! As this reception winded to a close we headed back to Valleluce where another party had been set up at my aunts. Fresh pizza, dancing, this is the life.